My Leather Crafting Journey
Share
My Leather Crafting Journey: Finding Purpose in the Darkest Places.
My leather crafting journey began at the confluence of the grief, trauma, and addiction rivers. The most unforgiving, wild, and remote location I had ever been on this Earth.
I found myself in a place I had never been before: disabled, isolated, and defeated. After losing my workshop (where I had started making knife blades), I was surrounded in my living room by tools and supplies that no longer had a home.
Among my supplies, I had a piece of leather that I had purchased, intending to learn how to make a sheath eventually. On a whim, with nothing to do and nowhere to go, I decided to teach myself how to make a leather sheath—something I could do in my living room. I searched online and discovered a new world of resources and a surprising sense of human connection in YouTube videos.
I immersed myself in it, practicing stitching and carving for days straight. It was an obsession, an escape, survival. I made intricate carved purses, belts, wallets, and holsters—anything that was challenging and occupied the time. Eventually, I began selling my creations at local gift shops and even had requests for custom orders. Though it was validating, I found little personal meaning in it.
Then the realization came: nothing was going to change unless I did. I felt completely defeated, and the only thing I could see to take control of was my pain medication. Eight years with the last two on an intrathecal pump (24/7 iv straight to the brain). It was brutal, but I saw it as a choice between life and slow dying. I chose life.
Things didn't magically get better overnight. Complex trauma and years of intense medication meant my mind didn't function as it used to; I couldn't focus or make decisions (It took two full years before I could perceive that I was mentally functioning better).
Leather working did not fix anything, but it bought me time. It gave my mind a place to be while the world seemed impossible.
Then it happened. It was a simple, tactile object that gave me a glimpse of a flicker of light. I would not have perceived it if the darkness wasn't so dark, but it was my flicker of light. I didn't feel better, but I made decisions to change my situation, and I followed through, despite what seemed too big for my capabilities, despite the overwhelm. I wrote of it in an earlier post The Weathering Token Story.
I’m in a better place now, both literally and figuratively. But there were no rainbows, butterflies, or unicorns; it’s been a dirty, muddy, bloody slog.
Finding Purpose and North & Mooring
The Intentional Rough Edges